Private Entries
by bumblebee-ff
Summary: Sherlock BBC series. The private blog entries of John Watson. Contains Watson/Holmes.
1. First Entry

_**WARNING SPOILERS**_

This story takes place at the end of episode 3 of the series.

Please note: English is not my native language, I did my best, but there might be mistakes, feel free to point them out.

Private Entries.

First Entry.

Sherlock BBC series.

Fan Fiction by Bumblebee.

"Catch you later." Sherlock calls after Moriarty.

_ "No you won't!"_ He returns in his annoying voice.

Suddenly Sherlock turned to me and started pulling at the coat. "Alright?" He asks, but my mind wasn't completely functioning. "Are you alright?" He insisted.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Sherlock pulled the zipper of the coat down and unclipped the bomb belt. "I'm fine Sherlock." The man stood behind me now and I started pulling my arms out of the sleeves. "Sherlock." What? Calm down? I wasn't calm. I Just needed him to respond. I was unnerved, shaky and I had been afraid we were going to die! "Sherlock!" Sherlock slid the coat away from us and then left trough the door next to us. Blood rushed through my head and I had to sit down. Taking deep breaths I watched Sherlock enter the pool area again. "Are you alright?" I asked. He looked distressed and nervous.

"Me? Yeah fine…I'm fine" The way he passed around and rubbed the back of his head with my gun told me he wasn't. "I'm fine…that thing…that you offered to do…that was uhm… good."

I felt strange with Sherlock's way of thanking me. I felt almost embarrassed, though I wasn't sure why. "I'm glad no one saw that."

"Hm?"

"You ripping of my clothes, people might talk." They already did. I thought.

"People do little else." Sherlock spoke my thoughts out loud and smiled at me. I returned it and slowly got up. His lips turned into a thin line as he stared at my chest. I followed his gaze and inhaled sharply.

A door banged open against the wall. "Sorry boys!" Moriarty had returned. "I'm so changeable! It is a weakness of mine, but to be fair to myself; it is my only weakness." Both of us now had guns pointed at us. "You can't be allowed to continue! You just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

Sherlock slowly turned. "Probably my answer already crossed yours." He faced Moriarty and aimed the gun at him. Then carefully lowered it a bit. He was aiming at the bomb now. I swallowed and felt helpless. I wanted to do something, but didn't know what. Moriarty clearly wanted us dead. Sherlock dead, I just got caught up in all of it. No that wasn't true, I chose to follow Sherlock. I wanted to and I don't regret it. I just didn't want it to end.

Moriarty looked serious for a moment then looked back at Sherlock with a smile. I looked at Sherlock and could have sworn amusement was dancing in his eyes as well. It was such a difference from only a moment ago when he was so worried. Didn't he realize that if he fired the gun they would all be dead? Of course he did, but a bluf wouldn't work on Moriarty, I guess it all depended on how much Moriarty wanted to live. I wanted to live! I wanted Sherlock to live! The adventures would stop, their talks would never happen again! I admire Sherlock Holmes even though we bicker. Hell I wanted to continue arguing! This man had given me a new life and I didn't want it to end like this! I could see it now on the front page; SWIMMING POOL BLOWN UP. PEOPLE MIGHT HAVE BEEN INSIDE! And once they've done their investigation, Anderson would come up with the fact that Sherlock Holmes and his sidekick had managed to blow themselves up, along with a couple of other guys. They would probably never find out who.

Moriarty began to laugh. "Alright, you're too entertaining. You can stick around for now! Now be good boys and stick around till I'm gone, yes? Ta ta!"

"Stop!" I yelled and Moriarty did. Sherlock was still pointing the gun.

Sherlock finished my words; "How do we know you won't have us killed the moment you leave."

I was shaking with fear and adrenaline.

"I promise." I couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

Sherlock seemed to be having the same doubts, but after a moment he lowers the gun and with a smile Moriarty leaves. The guns were still aimed at us. I could feel my heart hammering between my ears and smell my own sweat. I was rooted the ground, Sherlock didn't move either.

Eventually only one dot remained on each of us. Then after another few minutes that one too disappeared and I felt a prickle of relief enter me. Not enough to make me move, but it eased my breathing a bit.

Sherlock moved and without thinking I grabbed his arm before he could leave the pool. _I have to stop him!_ Was all I could think. My emotions must have been painfully clear on my face, because Sherlock stopped and stared at me. He was reading my emotions. My feelings; the fear for myself, but also for him, the bit of relief perhaps and something else. I wasn't sure right away, but then realized it was longing. The moment I realized it myself, so did Sherlock, or perhaps he was waiting for me to do so. He leaned in and kissed me hard. I kissed him back. I grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall. I kept kissing him. He tasted slightly bitter and I faintly registered he too smelled of sweat. It ended as abrupt as it started. We were both out of breath and embarrassed.

"Maybe we should go home." I suggested after the silence became too much.

Sherlock swallowed. "Yes."

_~Fin_

Thank you for reading. Yes I do plan on writing more, but I don't know yet how many. I guess it all depends on how soon it will bore me. ~wink~


	2. Second Entry

Thank you for the favs/follows. It is very motivating.

Private Entries.

Second Entry.

Sherlock BBC series.

Fan Fiction by Bumblebee.

Black and two sugars. That's how Sherlock has his coffee. Strong and sweet. Both only add to his already active mind and body, but who am I to judge the way Sherlock Holmes has his coffee. I just handed it to him and now he's holding it between his hands.

He's sitting cross legged watching the telly. He's watching Eastenders. His face is relaxed, but his eyes are trained on the screen. I asked him why he was watching this.

"There's nothing else on." He'd answered. You'd think he'd turn it off and read a book or something, but perhaps watching dull television calms his mind down a bit.

Sherlock was accused for another murder again. It's not true. If he'd done it, no one would find out. I'm pretty sure he could make a body disappear. And besides I think he has more fun solving a crime then committing one. If he had, I think I would want to know why and how, but that would be my morbid curiosity. Still I don't believe he would kill out of boredom.

"It's bothering you isn't it?" He had asked me earlier, when I was having the same thoughts.

"Yes." I replied. "It's ridiculous, why do they…does _she_ keep doing this? You helped with so many cases and still Donovan doubts you."

Sherlock smiled. "Yes. I think she's frightened by me. I make most people uncomfortable. Perhaps you're the strange one."

Yes, perhaps I am the strange one, but then again; I prefer to be strange and realistic. What he does is real and I truly admire that. I also wouldn't want to miss all of this for the world!

No matter how clever you think you are, he will outsmart you. It's fascinating to watch him. Perhaps I should feel uncomfortable and I admit; the first time I met him I did feel some discomfort, but that was soon replaced by admiration. And nowadays I'm used to him figuring everything out about what I'm doing, or even feeling most of the time. It makes me feel safe. He makes me feel alive. There is no point hiding or pretending around him. I like that.

I suddenly stopped this entry because Sherlock managed to knock me of balance _again_.

"Are you writing another private entry?" He asked as I was writing the previous bit.

"Uhm…I haven't decided if it's private yet or not. I guess."

"How do you decide what's private or not?"

If he's asking, then I guess he hadn't read those entries. That would have been nice of him, which is why I am still being suspicious whether he did read them or not.

"Cases aren't."

"But your daily thoughts are." It wasn't a question. "And seeing we haven't solved our case yet I'm guessing this is a private thought." He had conducted correct.

"Hang on, I thought this was a boring murder and you wanted nothing to do with it." Why does this man still surprise me? Shouldn't I _not_ be surprised, when he does things out of the blue?

"Because I just realized I made a mistake."

"What?" This was the biggest surprise of them all.

"What? I too am only human." It was clear it had bothered him. Which is probably why he hadn't said anything before. And when I think about it I realize I was the only person he had explained the murder too. I was the only one he had to confess too. It feels nice to know we were close enough for him to do so.

It happened again. Kissing I mean. Just as unexpected as the last time. We were sitting on the sofa having a chat about the mission. Well he was explaining to me what exactly had happened. After that there was a silence, I was tired enough to fall asleep right then and there. I leaned my head back comfortable and looked at him. He smiled at me.

I would like to tell you that he initiated the whole thing, but that wasn't true. It was both of us, or perhaps I started it. The thought makes me nervous and excited at the same time.

I pushed myself up and he leaned in. Our lips met in a soft, but slightly desperate touch. I hesitated and he must have noticed. Sherlock's hand slipped in the back of my neck and he deepened the kiss.

As I type this; my heart makes me almost giddy and I feel like curling my hand into a fist again. Only this time I don't have his shirt to curl my fingers around.

He pushed me back until I was lying down on the sofa. He felt heavy and warm. My own hands roamed his back and pulled him closer. He stumbled, but quickly balanced himself on his knee between my legs. The kiss continued; it was a bit sloppy. We both were trying to take control, both our mouths were parted the same way. A woman usually parts her lips less wide then the man does. But in this case it was confusing. But thrilling and, well hot.

A gasp startled us both and I immediately pushed him off and got up of the couch. It was mrs. Hudson. She looked as embarrassed as I was feeling. I could hardly look at her. I was breathing heavily and felt sweaty.

After only a moment she found her voice again. "I…I'm sorry dears." And she quickly left.

I ran after her and caught up before she managed to enter he rooms.

"I am truly sorry you had to see that, it…" It never happened before? That wasn't true. It won't happen again? But I didn't want to say that.

"It's alright dear. You're in love. Goodnight." She smiled a bit unsure and closed her door.

And that was it.

I am wide awake now.

_~Fin_

Thanks for reading!


	3. Third Entry

Sorry for the late update, but I have seen the episodes so often I can dream them and because of that my interest in it is diminishing. I reckon when the new episodes come out it will rekindle, but that's taking too long, so I'll try to heighten the flame some other way. Right now I'm watching the film from 2009.  
It is also a small update; I'm trying to get back into it.

I'm going to change the rating of Private Entries to adult. So far it's been readable for most, but I do plan on adding adult content. I'm sorry if I compromise any of my readers with this.

Private Entries.

Third Entry.

Sherlock BBC series.

Fan Fiction by Bumblebee.

Alright I admit it, I like him. _ A lot._

It was pouring outside this morning. In fact it was raining all day, like it has been for the past week, but this morning it was the worse and of course I chose that time to do some shopping. When I returned I dropped my shoes and coat in hallway. I considered taking off my trousers as well, but it would be embarrassing if Mrs. Hudson or one of the other renters spotted me in my wet underwear. I'm certain they would understand, but I chose to soak the carpet instead.  
The door to our rooms was open; as it usually was and I opened my mouth to complain again, but stopped when I spotted Sherlock lying on the couch with his eyes closed. At first I thought he was sleeping, but his head moved ever so slightly and he was wearing headphones. He looked content, no happy; the small smile and utter relaxed state said enough.  
A pool of water was forming around my feet on the wooden floorboards and I knew I had to get out of these clothes before I got a serious cold, but I didn't want to move. I still find it hard to describe how he looked, but I found him very attractive. Yes, I was highly attracted to him at that point.  
I'm not sure how long I had been standing there, but eventually Sherlock opened his mouth and said; "are you done staring?"  
"No." You must understand that at that moment I hadn't realized what I had said.  
"You'll get a cold like that." He opened his eyes and looked amused.  
"Yes!" I slapped my hand in my face and I could feel it heat up from embarrassment "God. I am so sorry." I feel abash just thinking about it. I left my bags at the door and hurried to my room. It's where I am right now. I have changed, but I think I'll wait a while before heading back down. I'm certain Sherlock is clever enough to conduct that _he_ is cleaning up the groceries.

_~Fin_

Thanks for reading!


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